Sleeping Dragon a prophecy

Seregryn lingers a little longer, as if to process, but her features change little with the realization. Why she hadn’t known it, Thuringwethil doesn’t know, but she does know she should. Has her teaching been lost in the months since Seageda had dissolved? She’d been young at the time, her studies thrown askew, and the apparent lake of respect for those above her grates against her nerves. Thuringwethil tightens her jaw, setting it in a firm position on her head squared between her shoulders. She notes the insubordination but before she can sort through her worry, Gyda speaks up.

She closes her slate eyes before she swings around, getting her jaw firmly tightened shut for fear of speaking the wrong words for the moment. Her Fos Goufa isn’t meant to give her trouble but her queen will not understand. Thuringwethil turns and opens her eyes, gaze falling on the fine set of Gyda’s anger.

“It won’t happen again,” she says through restraint before turning back the way she’d came to figure out what to do about the girl.